


The Crimson Moon

by Dragon_Dweller



Series: The Crimson [1]
Category: August Walker - Fandom, August Walker RPF, Henry Cavill - Fandom
Genre: Birthdays, Creampie, Dancing, Dirty Talk, Double Life, Expeditionism, F/M, Fluff, Language, Lapdance, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Oral, Pre-Fall Out, Rough Sex, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Unprotected Sex, alcohol use, minor stalking, night life, the hammer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Dweller/pseuds/Dragon_Dweller
Summary: Your best friend drags you to a strip club for your birthday, but you get more than you bargained for from a blue eyed, mustached stripper.
Relationships: August Walker/Reader, August Walker/You
Series: The Crimson [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981619
Kudos: 14





	The Crimson Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before Mission Impossible: Fall Out!

_The Crimson Moon_

Flashed the sign on the front of the building your friend was dragging you into.

The building, as the sign indicated, was a Crimson-Red color, accented with Charcoal-Black, the parking lot was dimly lit, giving the whole place a secretive and hushed vibe about it. You didn't want to go into it even more, the closer you got to it, even though you knew it wasn't like the seedy, Club O on 12th street, downtown. The Crimson Moon was a high-end and classy establishment, you needed a membership to enter this strip club, or you knew someone that one.

Enter your best friend, Baeli.

Baeli had an unapologetic obsession with men, typically, Chippendales, Firefighters or Cop type males. She had a reputation for going to the Crimson Moon and tipping the strippers so well, her membership was upgraded to Gold, which was how she was allowed to kidnap you and force you into going with her.

“Bae, I don't want to spend my birthday in a strip club.” You complained, sighing as you both stopped at the door leading inside.

“Oh, come on!” Baeli huffed, flipping her blond hair at you, the powerful wall of her perfume hitting you square in the nose. “Let's see one show, then we'll go somewhere you wanna spend your birthday.”

You gave her a dubious look, you had been friends with her since Grade One, and knew when she was talking out of her bleached blonde ass.

“Pinkie swear.” She sighed, rolling her eyes and stuck her powdered-pink, French manicure pinkie finger out towards you.

Growling and rolling your eyes back, neither of you _ever_ broke a pinkie swear. “Fine.” You groaned, hooking your plain pinkie finger with hers. “Pinkie swear, then we're going to Nathan's pub and getting shots.”

“Fine.” Baeli groaned, she hated going to Nathan's, but like how you sucked up going to the club with her, she'll suck up going to the pub with you.

“Card.” A beefy doorman growled, thrusting out his hand towards Baeli.

Baeli opened the clutch that hung from her forearm, revealing a huge wad of cash, there wasn't a bill lower than a ten amongst them. Fishing around the thick bundle of money, Baeli removed a glittering gold card, the name Crimson Moon written on it, over the image of red thumbnail moon, with her name and membership number.

“A pleasure to have you again, Ms. Evans.” The doorman said, swiping her card in a reader and handing it back to her, his almost mafia bodyguard demeanor washing away into a surprisingly polite and gentlemanly attitude.

“This is my guest.” Baeli said, smiling at you over her shoulder. “It's her birthday.” She added, with a sly smirk.

The doorman looked you over, lifting a brow at your black, knee length and sleeveless halter top dress, hugging your body just right with your black flats. You saw the corner of his lip twitch, and knew that you passed the club's strict dress code, it worked out with Baeli helping you decide what to wear on your birthday. You didn't care, if you were going to stay home and nurse a bottle of wine on your own, while watching ridiculous tv shows, you just wanted to feel gorgeous on your big day.

“Enjoy yourselves, ladies.” The doorman said, opening the blacked out door for you both, with a slight bow of his head. “Happy birthday.” He added quietly, as you walked by him and into the club.

“Thank you.” You whispered back as the door closed behind you.

Looking around, you felt the illusion of the club, it was larger on the inside than it was on the outside. The carpeting was dark red and black abstract, with spots of steel-gray. There were in-laid, circle lights in the floor, showing the way to the bar and to the seating section, right in front of the stage and a hallway off the side. The whole place was dimly lit, with the runner lights and turned down low sconces, as well as the various lights on the stage, to light the performance of the strippers.

Baeli grabbed your hand and guided you to the bar. “One rum and coke.” She told the single bartender. “And a mojito, please.”

The bartender nodded his head at her, silently, and started moving about, grabbing the two different glasses for the drinks and started building them, impressively, at the same time, using one hand for the mojito and the other for the rum and coke.

“That's pretty cool.” You commented, nodding your hand at him as he set a napkin on the bar top, then your rum and coke on it, setting it in front of you.

“Thanks.” He whispered, quietly, then moved on to another customer.

“Come.” Baeli said, taking a sip of her mojito through the teeny black straw, then turned towards the stage. “The next show is starting.” She informed you.

A smooth and deep voice came over an intercom system wired throughout the immaculate building, it smelled like sandalwood, money and unfulfilled fantasies. You followed Baeli to the front row, _shocker_ , you thought. It wasn't that your best friend was a slut or anything, she just had a really strong fetish for men, even though, nine and a half times out of ten, they were complete losers, that treated her badly, had a criminal history or were married.

Didn't stop Baeli though.

“Welcome to the Crimson Moon, where you'll _always_ be driven mad by our full moons.” the silky voice said, smoothly.

“Christ, that's cliché.” You snorted, sipping your drink and sitting down at the table with Baeli.

“Ssshh.” Baeli hushed you, annoyed.

“Tonight, we have just what every woman needs in her life, _The Hammer_.” The voice continued, dropping his tone to a low timber at the end of his sentence.

You looked over at Baeli, rolling your eyes at how stupid that sounded, a stripper named, _'the Hammer'_ , did they have a Screwdriver and Power Saw, as well? But, Baeli was losing her mind, grinning like mad and bouncing in her seat, if her face got any redder with her excitement, you'd mistake _her_ for a Crimson Moon.

“Oh, we're in so much luck!” She bubbled at you, with a full and toothy grin. “He is _so_ handsome, a _total_ hunk of man. He could fuck me through the floor and all I'd be able to do, is thank him and ask for more.”

“You say that about _every_ man you encounter, Bae.” You replied, shaking your head at her, not at all impressed or excited, you looked forward to him doing his routine and getting out of here to get to Nathan's.

“I mean it with this one.” Baeli replied, unstoppable. “The Hammer is a _total_ package, just you wait! By the time he finishes his routine, your panties will be soaked.” She beamed, then got a wolfish look on her face.

“That is, if you're wearing any.”

You narrowed your eyes at her in disgust. “I'm wearing underwear, you weirdo.” You huffed at her, shifting and feeling the elegant, lace panties you had on.

The lights lining the edge of the stage turned on and moved low against the stage, illuminating the floor and the simple black curtain backdrop. A low hum of music pumped through hidden speakers, you could feel the bass in your chest and the soles of your flats, it was a pleasant beat. Baeli fidgeted with excitement as the black satin curtain opened and you saw the biggest guy you had ever seen in your life. He was well over six foot, two hundred pounds of well packaged muscle, broad shoulders and chest. You were sure he was the reason the phrase, _'thick thighs save lives'_ was coined, they were as big around as tree trunks, held snug in the black slacks he wore. Your eyes trailed up his long legs, licking your lips as your eyes moved over his torso, he was moving slowly, rolling his hips as his big hands moved to the button of his shirt, nimble fingers gently pushing the clear button through the hole. You didn't know how the hell he managed it, but he somehow made unbuttoning a shirt sexy; you bit your lip as his chest slowly came into view as more buttons came undone.

Half of his buttons were free by the time your eye finally met his, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. _'Fuck, he's gorgeous'_. His hooded Cerulean-Blue eyes met yours and a smirk tugged up the corner of his lip, a light scruff on his cheeks and sharp jawline with a well taken care of mustache. _'Damn it, Baeli.'_ you thought, feeling the slick warmth start to pool in your black lace panties. The smirk on his face grew, his attentive and observant eyes noticing the slight movements of your knees as you tried to ignore the tingling feeling there and the slightly embarrassed look in your eyes.

He let his now unbuttoned shirt slip off his arms, revealing thick and strong arms underneath. Your eyes flared as he smoothed his palms over his chest, the bump of his defined abs, and to the buckle of his belt.

“Oh god.” You whimpered into your drink, eyes glued to his hands as they tugged open the buckle of his belt, then slowly pulled the clearly expensive leather from the loops of his pants. “Oh Jesus.” You whined, chewing on your lip and unable to look away.

“I told you.” Baeli chuckled into your ear. “He must like you, his eyes haven't left yours, since he came on.”

“He's just doing his job.” You mumbled into your glass, your own eyes still locked on his.

His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his slacks and shoved them down, kicking them off the stage, and making some girl on the other side of the stage squeal, scrambling to grab them off the floor, but he was still focused on you, still gently moving as he stood there in a silk thong, that _just_ barely contained his overflowing package.

“Oh good god.” You gasped, mouth falling open.

“That's right, honey!” Baeli yelled out, pulling out several large bills from the wad of cash in her clutch and stuffed them in the tip jar at the end of the stage, since you weren't allowed to touch the performers.

“I need another drink.” You squeaked, as you met his eyes again, then got up and rushed over to the bar, feeling his blue orbs follow you. “Rum and coke, extra rum.” You told the bartender as he approached you, throat tight.

When the bartender set your refilled glass down in front of you, you shamelessly chugged it down, trying to get the burning feeling your mind, and pussy, to go away with the strong and chilled beverage, but it didn't seem to work, the alcohol only heated your skin up even more. There was a room full of claps and whistles behind you, signaling the end of the man's dance, and relaxed as the sizzling feeling of his eyes on you vanished as he returned to the backstage.

“I think you might have hurt his feelings.” Baeli said, coming up behind you. “Rushing off like that.”  
“I'm sure all the cash you practically threw at him will buffer that burn.” You told her, dabbing at your mouth with the napkin from under your glass. “Let's go.” You told her, setting your empty glass on the bar top, and turned towards her.

“We can't.” She frowned at you, shaking her head.

“Why the hell not?” You snapped at her, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Because, I set up a private lap dance for you.” She replied with an excited grin.

“Oh no.” You shook your head at her, licking your lip. “Absolutely not!”

“Absolutely _yes_.” She nodded back, getting annoyed with you. “That is an expensive dance, so you have to take it.”

“No, I don't. You do it and I'll wait in the car.”

“I can't, I'm not the birthday girl, you are.” Baeli shook her head at you and held out a key to you, dangling from a black and red moon shaped key tagged. “Off you go, or I'll drag you there by your hair.”

“Christ.” You huffed at her, snagging the key from her. “You and the hair pulling.” You chided her.

“The room number is on the tag.” She told you, grinning like she was sending you off to the wolves.

You looked down at the tag as you walked towards the hallway off the side of the stage where all of the private rooms were, and found Room Six. Biting your lip and taking a deep breath, you slotted the key into the door and stepped inside, closing it behind you. The room was decorated much like the rest of the club, but with a single comfortable chair and a closed circuit camera in one of the top corners of the room, and one other door across from you. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, you had never gotten a lap dance before, this was only your second time in a strip club, so you were uncomfortable. The door across from you opened and your heart started to beat even harder, seeing the blue eyed, mustached man from the stage step into the room with you.

“You.” He smirked at you, licking his upper lip as he closed his door.

“Yeah.” You squeaked, trembling, he was so much bigger up close.

He chuckled, seeing your nervousness and motioned to the chair. “Sit.”

Hesitating for a moment, you slipped into the chair, feeling even smaller compared to him now, melting into the chair as he stepped closer to you. He planted a hand on each of the arm rests and leaned down over you, bringing his face so close to yours, you saw the brown fleck in the upper corner of his blue eyes. He smelled so good, like dark vanilla, leather bound books and sandalwood from his beard and mustache oil; you were unconscious of slightly leaning towards him and taking in a stronger breath, wanting to be immersed in his scent. He smirked at you and leaned down closer, your nose deliciously close to the hollow of his neck and collarbone.

“I hear, it's your birthday.” He whispered softly into your ear.

“Yeah.” You nodded, enchanted and almost drugged by his scent and presence.

“Well, then.” He purred, his lips brushing your ear, the soft hairs of his mustache tickling the rim of your earlobe. “I'll have to give you an extra bit of attention.” He cooed at you, fingertips meeting the sensitive spot behind your opposite ear and smoothed down the side of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Birthday girl.” His voice was husky, his hot breath warming your chilled skin and making you shiver.

“Sweet Jesus.” You whimpered, feeling the heat of his breath rippling through your body and to your pussy, drenching your panties even more, and you were sure, as you watched his eyes darken, that he could smell it.

“Not Jesus, birthday girl.” He chucked, moving back some, his hands moving to the collar of his shirt, he had clothed himself since his performance, you couldn't remember how long ago. “Just _the Hammer_.” He murmured, his voice smooth like chocolate.

“Do you usually go to strip clubs on your birthday?” He asked, undoing another button.

“No.” You whispered, out of breath and hyper-focused on his rapidly appearing chest, that your hands tingled to be able to touch. “I usually stay home or go to Nathan's pub.” You mumbled, brain going on autopilot.

“Doesn't sound very fun.” He rasped, tugging one side of his now unbuttoned shirt from where it was tucked into his ridiculously tight waistband.

“I don't like celebrating.” You goggled at his exposed torso.

“Hm.” He hummed with a sly smirk, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and pulled up your hand so you pressed your palm flat against his chest.

Despite the heat in the room, _—was the room hot or was it you—_ his skin was cool to the touch, like he has been sitting under a pleasant air conditioner before coming into the room. You whimpered softly, pressing your hand firmer to his groomed, but hairy, chest and slid down, feeling the nub on his nipple harden under the heat of your palm, before rubbing your thumb over each bump of his six-pack. Smirking, he tugged the other side of his shirt free, gently grinding against you and tossing his shirt over the back of your chair.

“Go on.” He purred, lips brushing your warm cheek. “I know you want to touch me more than that.” He whispered into your ear, before taking it between his pearly-whites.

“Is that even allowed?” You found yourself asking, without meaning too.

“It's private, we can do damn near anything in here,” he hummed low in his throat. “As long as we're both consenting.” He added, softer, sending a shiver down your back.

Your other hand reached up and gripped that etched hip peeking out from the top of his slacks and dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss and bite your neck, all the while, pressing closer to you, one hand braced on the back of the couch and the other cupping your neck. You felt the firm and long rub of something, then noticed the very visible bulge straining his slacks, inches from you, and panicked. You planted both hands on his chest and pushed him away, jumping up from the chair, all flustered and embarrassed.

“I'm sorry.” You squeaked, making for the door.

Sighing heavily, but smiling at your shy and hasty departure, he plucked his shirt from the back of the chair and exited out of the door he came in through.

“So, how was it?” Baeli asked, sitting at the bar, while she waited for you. “It wasn't very long.”

“It was long enough.” You told her, muddled. “Can we go to Nathan's now?” You asked her, almost begging, you wanted to get out of the Crimson Moon in case, _the Hammer_ , decided to follow after you.

Baeli rolled her eyes, but nodded her head. “All right, fine.” She sighed, slapping a fifty on the bar top and headed for the door.

Relieved, you followed Baeli back out to her car and slipped into the passenger seat, you watched the Crimson Moon sink into the distance as Baeli drove you both to the pub, twenty minutes away. With a sigh, you slipped into a booth seat at Nathan's Pub, which had been your watering hole since college, the alcohol was decent, the staff was incredible and the food was spot on, what else would you want out of an establishment?

Importantly, no hot men grinding on you and making you question your morals.

You and Baeli shared a drink and the waitress, who knew you quite well, showed up at your table with a slice of cake, a single candle burning on it, then several other staff, a couple patrons and Baeli sang you a round of happy birthday, before clapping and giving you hugs after blowing the candle out. You chuckled, digging into the overly sweet cake, sharing it with Baeli, and forgetting all about the strip club.

“All right, birthday girl.” Baeli yawned, finishing off her plain, diet coke. “I'm ready to go, how about you?” She asked, making sure she had her car keys.

“You go on home, I'm going to stay a little bit longer, I'll Uber home.” You told her, still nursing the Daiquiri you ordered.

“You sure?” She frowned, she hated to leave you alone like this on your birthday.

“I'm positive.” You nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.

“All right, I'll call you in the morning.” She nodded back, giving you a quick hug and headed out.

You finished your drink, and left a tip for the staff, since Baeli paid the bill, then headed outside to find a good spot to have an Uber pick you up and take you home.

“You know, I was quite surprised by you.” A silky voice said behind you. “I wouldn't have taken you as the rude type, not allowing me to finish my work, _twice_.”

You yelped in surprise and dropped your phone on the asphalt, spinning around to see the tall stripper behind you, _the Hammer_. “Are you following me?” You squeaked, slowly bending down to pick up your phone, never taking your eyes off of him.

“I really don't like unfinished business.” He replied, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his shoulder against the brick wall at the side of Nathan's.

“Too bad.” You replied, gulping and looking around, hoping someone would come out of the pub and into the parking lot.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” He told you, lifting a brow as your uneasiness.

“Yeah, sure.” You huffed at him, trying to fake confidence. “You only follow me twenty minutes from your work and wait for me to come out, to confront me, alone, in a parking lot, in the middle of the night.

He chuckled at you. “When you put it that way.” He smirked, licking his lips in a way that had you feeling that heat again. “But, if I wanted to kidnap or harm you, you would already be in my car.” He told you, with such a steely confidence and an amused blankness to his face and eyes, you felt a chill join the growing heat of your body.

“W-what do you want?” You mumbled, biting your lip.

“To finish what I started.” He smirked at you, his eyes racking over you. “It is still your birthday, for another-” He looked at his watch. “Two hours.” He smirked and crossed his arms again. “Come on, I promised to give you extra attention, and intend too. Promise, I won't disappoint or do anything you don't want.”

You stared at this man and felt your morals slip, it was your birthday after all, why the hell shouldn't you make the most of it with a hot guy. “Where?” You asked him, taking a deep breath.

“I have a good neutral place.” He told you, pushing off the wall and motion to a stupidly nice car.

“Um,” You frowned at him, then activated the screen of your phone, texting Baeli.

_**»** Met a guy at Nathan's, sharing my location._

_**»** Is he cute?_

Rolling your eyes, you shoved your phone into the little pocket in your dress and looked back at him, he had opened the passenger door for you, which surprised you, a guy had never done that for you before.

“Thanks.” You muttered, slipping into the seat.

“Of course.” He chuckled, then closed your door and went around to the driver's side.

“What's your name?” You asked, looking over at him.

“Why?” He frowned at the road.

“I don't want to call you _'the Hammer'_ for the next two hours.” You retorted, lifting a brow at him.

“Hm.” He huffed, amused. “Most people call me, Walker.” He replied.

“What do your friends call you?”

“Walker.” He answered, his tone plain and guarded.

“What did your mother call you?”

Walker looked over at you as the car rolled to a stop at a red light. “Nothing that a child should be called.” He replied, tightly.

“Walker, it is then.” You gulped, after a momentary pause.

“And yours?” Walker asked, turning a corner as the light changed back to green.

You told him your name.

“It's a lovely name.” He complimented you.

“Thanks.” You smiled, shyly brushing your hair behind your ear. “That's your _neutral_ ground?” You asked, seeing the highest end hotel the city had come into view.

“It is.” Walker nodded with a sly smirk.

“How does a _stripper_ afford a super expensive car and an even more expensive hotel?” You asked him, following him into the lobby.

Walker smiled at you, stopping at the reception counter. “Pent suite.” He told the clerk, holding out a gold American Express card to him.

“Of course, Mr. Walker.” the Clerk replied, setting it up.

Your mouth was hanging open as you watched him swipe the card and hand it back to Walker, surprised that the man knew his name and the price on the screen for the room. But, Walker was unphased by all of it, taking back his card and motioning you in front of him, towards the lifts.

“That's a lot of money for two hours.” You choked, stepping into the lift with him.

“Not for the Birthday girl.” Walker replied, smiling smugly at you, and hit the top floor button.

“Are you always like this, when someone doesn't let you finish?” You asked, following him down the hall at the very top floor and to a set of double doors.

“No, you're the first woman that's never let me finish a _performance_.” He replied, swiping the room key in the door reader and pushed it open, politely letting you enter the elegant suite first.

“First for everything, I suppose.” You answered, looking around the room, mouth hanging open.

“True.” Walker nodded, looking you over as you walked around, licking his lips, like he was thirsty and you were a refreshing drink. “Here, sit down.” He said softly, grabbing a chair and setting in the middle of the room.

Sighing, you did as he said and sat down in the chair, then watched him loosen the clearly expensive silk tie he was wearing, and stepped around behind you, pulling your arms back and using the tie to bind your wrists together. You started to panic and breathe hard, feeling the soft fabric tighten, securely.

“Calm down.” Walker purred at you, soothingly. “I can't have you running off for a third time, can I?” He asked, coming around the chair to face you. “That's just so incredibly rude.” He told you, shaking his head at you.

“Is it too tight?” He asked, watching you try and calm yourself with deep breaths.

“No.” You gasped, biting your lip.

“Good.” He nodded, with a sweet smile. “All settled?” He asked, stroking your cheek in an oddly soothing way.

“Ye-yeah.” You nodded, finally getting your heart rate under control.

“Very good.” He smiled a bit more, the back of his fingers trailing from your cheek to your neck, then down the swell of your breasts, liking the way your bra pushed them up. “Hm.” He hummed, watching the rise and fall of your chest quicken again, but for a completely different reason.

“If I do anything you don't like, or if you want to stop,” He explained, rubbing his thumb over your lips. “All I want you to say is one word.”

“What word?” You asked, pressing your thighs together to stop the slick heat from raising again, and failing.

“ _Cake._ ”

“Okay.” You nodded, feeling that cliché.

“Say it.” Walker pressed you, sternly.

“ _Cake._ ” You repeated the word with a gulp.

“Very good.” He smiled and gently pat you on the head with, what you supposed was his attempt at, a wink. “Now, where was I before you interrupted me?” He hummed, pressing his lips together and tapping his middle finger against his stubbly chin.

“That's right.”

Turning on his heels, August pulled his phone out of his pocket and over to a Bluetooth speaker that came with the room. Pairing the two up, he scrolled through his vast and diverse music playlists, until he found a song he wanted and pressed play, setting his phone down next to the speaker, he turned back to you. Smiling, he rested his foot on the seat of a chair that was identical to the one he had you tied to, removed the laces of his dress shoes and neatly tucked them under the foot of the huge bed in the room, then took off his socks and rolled them up, neatly stuffing them into his shoes. Satisfied with that, Walker moved closer to you, your knees brushing his shins.

“You're quite beautiful, you know that.” He complimented you, resting his hand on the back of your chair, his lips brushing your ear, cheek and then your lips.

“Thank you.” You sighed, eyes rolling shut at the soft feel of his supple lips and the intoxicating scent of his body.

“You're welcome.” He purred, before giving you a chasten kiss on the lips.

You moaned against his mouth, he tasted sweet and minty. Chuckling, Walker moved slightly away, his hands unbutton his shirt before your eyes, for the third time that night. You almost pouted at the fact your arms were tied behind you, wanting to touch his body again, and Walker saw that look in your eyes.

“Patience, love.” He cooed at you, letting his shirt slip off his arms and to the floor. “If you behave, I'll untie you, and you can touch me _all_ you want.” He promised, cupping your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing your lips, before pressing inside your mouth for a moment, letting you suck on the tip of his digit for a second, before pulling his hand away, teasing you.

His movements were slow, fluid and calculated. You were learning that was the kind of person Walker was, he took his time, and he managed that time well, like a General in the military would. He touched your face, arms and upper body as he moved around you, only occasionally brushing your thighs and knees, pushing up the edge of your dress with each touch, until he could just see the hint of your soaked panties. His hands left you, with a whine of protest, he chuckled and dropped his hands to his pants, he wasn't wearing a belt this go around, so popping open the button of his slacks was simple, but he made a painfully slow show out of unzipping them and pushing them down his tree trunk thighs.

You expected the thong he had been wearing for his on stage routine, but, unfortunately, he was wearing boxer briefs. But even that much material wasn't enough to hold back the creature Walker had living inside of them, he was large and incredibly hard inside of them, a small damp spot on them from where the tip of his cock rested.

“You see what you've done.” He asked you, following your eyes to the wet spot. “You've teased me twice tonight, leaving me hard as a block of marble.”

“I'm sorry.” You found yourself blurting out, without conscious thought, eyes glued to his confined dick, it had been months since you had sex, and that was underwhelming, at best.

“Not yet, you're not.” Walker laughed, slipping the tips of his fingers into his boxers and stroking his shaft, the wet spot growing. “You want me to take them off?” He asked, fisting himself, unashamed.

“Please.” You nodded, licking your lips, dying for the sight of it.

“Hm.” He hummed, squatting in front of you, hands resting on your knees. “Let's see just how much you want to see me naked, shall we?” He asked, lifting a brow at you and slipped a hand between your legs, sliding it home to palm the drenched fabric of your panties.

“Shit.” You gasped, hips shamefully rubbing against his palm, a mind of their own.

“Oh, how wet the Birthday Girl is.” He teased you, ghosting the pad of his middle finger against your clothed clit. “You must really want to see me naked.” He chuckled, licking his lips and rubbing harder.

“Oh god, Walker.” You begged him, squeezing your legs together to keep his hand against your pussy. “Please.”

“You want me this bad, and yet, you ran away, twice.” He tutted at you, pulling his hand free, and stood.

“I'm sorry.” You croaked, eyes wide and desperate. “I was just frightened and overwhelmed, I didn't expect _this_.” You explained, you still didn't expect it, and part of you was berating yourself for getting into this situation, but there was nothing for it now, you were hot, wet and horny, and you wanted Walker to finish his lap dance, and give you whatever else he had in mind.

Or, in his boxers, for that matter.

“I'm sure you didn't.” He answered, his voice rough and dripping with arousal.

The tempo of the song picked up and Walker started slowly dancing and moving, surprising you with how agile his tall and muscular body was, he was in such complete control of himself and every teeny little thing he did, you couldn't help the enthralled and turned on expression on your face and in your eyes. As the song and his dance came to a close, Walker knelt before you, resting his hands on your shaky knees, pushing your dress up and spread your legs wide, the cool air of the room wafted against the wet fabric, making you shiver in response. Walker smirked, petting your folds through your panties and you shivered even more, moaning.

“So impatient.” He cooed at you, slipping a finger into the side of your undies and caressing your slick and dripping folds.

“Fuck.” You moaned, bucking against his finger, choking down a gulp.

“Push on your toes and lift your hips.” Walker instructed you, removing his hand from between your legs.

You did as he told you and felt his strong fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties and slip them off of you, then carefully removed your flats, tucking them in beside his own. You gasped, feeling his warm lips on the cool skin at the inside of your thigh, the tickle of his mustache and stubble had you letting out a breathy giggle, only to melt into a deep moan, from Walker placing wet kisses, nibbles and love bites all over your thighs. You were starting to get impatient again, wanting his mouth on your pussy all ready, straining against the tie wrapped around your wrists, you were surprised by how well he bound and tied you.

“Ow!” You let out in a breathy yelp.

“Stop doing that.” He scolded you, feeling you fidget. “You'll cut off the circulation in your hands.”  
“Well, if you stop fucking teasing me.” You retorted back.

“I'll tease you all I want.” Walker remarked with a sly smirk. “You're the one tied to the chair.” He reminded you, like you had forgotten.

You grinned back at him, cheeks warm and shaking your head.

Chuckling, Walker started all over again, and took even longer this time to reach your folds, leaving bite marks, hickies and beard burn behind. You opened your legs even wider, panting, as his warm breath tickled your wet folds, your head fell back as he gave your clit a sharp flick of his tongue, toes curling into the short carpet under your feet. Walker pressed a lewd kiss to your pussy, suckling your clit with maddening expertise and leisure, his hands gripped your hips and pinned you to the chair, stopping your desperate wiggles to fuck his face. His licks grew more and more, until he was licking the full length of your pussy with his long and broad tongue, swirling it around your clit and delving into the weeping entrance of your core, collecting your juices on his tongue and swallowing with deep rumbles of satisfaction of how good you tasted.

“You definitely taste better than Birthday Cake.” He moaned, lapping at your pussy.

You laughed, nervously. “Th-thanks.” You whimpered, a complete mess under his skilled mouth.

“I'm still shocked.” He purred between licks. “You're so polite, yet, you're so willing to ditch someone just trying to do their job.” He laughed, then gave your pussy several long and firm lips, sending you skating over the edge.

“Fuck, Walker!” You cried out, twitching and straining against your bonds, leaving a sticky mess between your legs, his mouth and mustache, and all over the seat beneath you, your eyes fluttering shut.

“That is the best damn orgasm I have ever had.” You commented, after semi recovering yourself.

Walker chuckled, smugly proud of himself as he moved around you and tugged the knot of the tie free, your numb arms falling heavily to your sides, releasing the strain on your shoulders. Walker's broad hands rested on your shoulders and started massaging your tense muscles, working his thumbs up and down your neck and between your shoulder blades, kneading and making you feel even more like puddy under his attention. His hands moved away from you and you heard the rustle of clothing behind you and every hair on your body stood on end, seeing his boxers come flying over your head and land on the floor with his discard pants and shirt.

“Stand up.” He rasped directly into your ear.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you could stand up, your legs felt like weak water balloons, but you slowly rose to your feet and your chair was pulled farther back. You didn't turn around to face Walker, the last remnants of your shyness holding you back from seeing him fully naked. His hands suddenly appeared on your back again, grabbing the zipper to the back of your dress and pulling it down, then pushed the straps off your shoulders, the black material of your dress pooled at your feet, like a black hole; followed by your matching push up bra. You hugged your arms to your bare chest and gulped, Walker wrapped his arms around you and pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck, hugging you back against him, allowing you to feel every square inch of his chiseled and naked body.

“You're even more beautiful naked.” He hummed against the skin of your neck and shoulder, then turned you to face him. “Don't be shy.” He chuckled, grabbing your wrists and gently pulled your arms away from your chest. “Nothing I haven't seen before.” He assured you, bending his head forward to press a kiss to each other of your breasts, reaffirming his words.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and resting his hands on your hips, Walker picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carefully turned, pressing your back against the wall beside you. Your ass rested right on top of his rock hard cock as he braced his knees against the wall and your eyes widened, _'fuck, he's huge'_. You gulped, blinking at him. Walker smirked and wiggled his brows at you, his confidence was as palpable as the rest of his body, he reached beneath you and grasped his shaft and rubbed the tip against your sticky and still wet pussy, both of you moaning in unison. Chests heaving against each other, Walker slowly guided his uncut cock inside of your core, then let your body weight sink you the rest of the way on its own, wanting you to feel that slow stretch as his thick shaft opened you even wider, every long inch being molded to your core.

“You are perfectly snug around my cock.” He purred, biting into your neck and sucking hard. “Your sweet little pussy doesn't wanna let me go, does it.” He growled against your jugular, biting you even harder, you were shocked he didn't draw blood.

“No.” You moaned, shaking your head and hugging your arms tighter around his neck; _you_ didn't want to let _him_ go.

Walker bucked up into you, spearing into your cervix like a hot knife and had you calling out his name, not caring how loud you were and if any of the other suites on the floor heard. His thrusts were measured and rough, pulling you down as he drove himself up, the dresser along the table next to you rattled and the objects on top of it jumped with each thrust and clattered to the floor. The whole room was filled with sounds spilling out from you and Walker, slapping skin, shaking furniture and knocking over objects.

“Yes, yes.” You panted and cried, holding onto Walker and understanding why he was called the _Hammer_. “Fuck, Walker. Fill me, please, for fuck sake, _fill_ me.” You begged him, racking your nails down his shoulders and sweaty back, drawing spots of blood.

Grunting and _hammering_ you harder, Walker obliged your request and sent both of you spiraling into a tandem orgasm and miraculously not through the wall. His flushed face and sweaty forehead fell heavily to your shoulder, his huffing breath washing over the skin of your collarbone and breast. You rested your head back against the wall, trying to catch your own breath and settling your pounding and screaming heart rate, with a throb between your legs from Walker's furious thrusting. Breath caught, Walker pulled both of you off the wall and carried you, like a limp koala, into the huge bathroom suite, setting you down on the heated toilet seat, then turned to the deep soaking tub and spinning on the hot tap.

“If this is how you treat women that run out on your performances, then I might turn into a regular dance and dash customer of yours.” You chuckled, sinking into the warm and soapy water, feeling the jets massage your exhausted and drained body.

Walker chuckled, shaking his head at you and stepped out of the bathroom, picking up his discarded clothes, carefully folding them, and cleaned up the mess on the floor. He picked your dress up off the floor and felt the pocket vibrate. Frowning, he pulled the device out and the screen lit up, showing off a text from someone called Baeli and the notification of your location share.

“Smart girl.”

He chuckled, smirking, then turned the share off, before folding your dress and set it on the dresser with your ruined panties and bra, your phone on top of them. “Are you hungry?” Walker called out to you, opening the double doors of the private balcony the room had; but you didn't answer him.

Frowning, Walker stepped back into the bathroom and chuckled, shaking his head, seeing you had dozed off, while enjoying your nice, hot bath.

– –

You hadn't realized you fell asleep, until you woke up an hour later, under a layer of blankets. But, that wasn't what had woken you, what woke you was the low murmur of a voice that sounded very angry. Walker's voice, with someone he was clearly on the phone with.

“I don't care.” Walker hissed between clenched teeth, as he stood on the balcony. “I fucking told you, Royce. I want the rest of the Apostles on this. If any, and I mean, _any_ , of them fuck this up for me, I will kill them.” He growled, gripping the balcony railing to try and keep his voice and temper under control.

“Do you understand? I would do it myself, if the CIA didn't have me undercover.”

It seemed like the person Walker was talking to had promised to do what he expected of them, because he visibly relaxed.

“Good. Call me in the morning and tell me how it went.” Walker sighed, running a hand through his disheveled and wind swept curls.

You closed your eyes as he hung up and leaned against the railing, not wanting him to feel your eyes on him or to know you had woken up at an apparently important section of his phone call. Your stomach was in knots, who were the Apostles? Was he really an undercover CIA? Was being a stripper part of that cover, or just a side job he got a kick out of? That must have been why he had so much money. Your brain screamed for you to jump up right there, yank on your clothing and run like hell from this apparently more dangerous man than you thought he was, but your body was still heavy as a rock from all the drinks you consumed over the night of your birthday and the mind blowing sex, so you only ended up falling back to sleep, as Walker turned around and entered the room again, unaware of your being awake or knowing what you now knew.

Waking again a few hours later, it was early morning, but still dark outside, an arm slung over your waist, hugging you against the solid, breathing wall of Walker's chest. Biting your lip, you carefully wiggled out of Walker's arms and to the edge of the bed, before you risked sitting up and stood, turning around to face him. He was relaxed and softly snoring on his side, his handsome face so soft you finally noticed the dark circles under his long lashes, the thick muscles of his arms and chest slack, he didn't seem as dangerous as you thought as you fell back to sleep after his phone call on the balcony.

Maybe, you had just dreamt it.

He gave you no indication of wanting to hurt you, and he had plenty of opportunities to do so throughout the night. Walker had done quite the opposite, he had been gentle, careful and mindful of you. He could have forced himself on you in the private room at the Crimson Moon, he could have done anything to you when he showed up at Nathan's, obviously annoyed by you running off before your lap dance was done, and he could have seriously hurt you once he got you into this hotel room, but again did nothing you didn't want and was quite sweet by drawing you a bath and putting you to bed after you fell asleep.

Sighing, you moved to the dresser, where he had folded your clothes and slipped your bra and panties on, then stepped out onto the balcony, the doors still open and letting in the cool night air. Resting your forearms against the railing and leaning forward, you looked down the dizzying thirty floors to the street below, a trickle of cars slowly thickening as people got up and started their days, rushing off to work or wherever else, which reminded you, you had to get home and get ready for your shift in four hours. Huffing, you shook your head, _'fuck that'_ , you'd just call in sick and take the day off.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Walker's voice rasped behind you.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, finding him standing, butt naked, at the threshold of the balcony. “Just thinking that I have work in four hours, and how I want to call in sick.” You replied, looking back over the skyline.

“Perhaps you should.” He commented, stepping out onto the balcony with you, his hands resting on your hips and kneading them. “You deserve it.” He whispered, rubbing his soft cock against your ass.

“Do I?” You snorted, shaking your head and pushing back against him.

“I think so.” He rasped, touching the side of his foot to the inside of yours and pushed your leg out, until your chest was pressed to the railing and you leaned over it, slightly.

“Walker.” You gasped, eyes wide as you got even more dizzy from the height.

“Hush.” He cooed, then promptly ripped your underwear off of you.

“Walker!” You barked, surprised and annoyed, you were starting to rethink his threat level, when he filled you up with his cock again.

“I'll replace them.” Walker laughed, wrapping your hair around one hand and pulled your head back. “I can afford something better for you to wear, anyway.” He whispered into your ear, and started thrusting into you, your hips rubbing harshly against the railing, and his strong fingers rubbing your still sore clit.

Afterwards, You let Walker carry you back to bed and melted into his big arms and broad chest. “Is your cover really going to be blown, August?” You asked, coming off the high that had started the afternoon before.

“So, you were awake.” August laughed, brushing his fingers through your hair. “But, no, love. My cover is just fine, like it always is. Some of the Apostles are just being idiots, but I've put them back in their rightful places.”

“Under your size eleven boot.” You laughed, tilting your head back to look up at your beloved boyfriend.

“Exactly, sweetheart.” He chuckled back, kissing the tip and bridge of your nose. “Did you have a good birthday?” He asked, stroking the side of your face.”

“ _Mission: Crimson Moon_ , was bloody fantastic.” You assured him, kissing his stubbly jawline. “You make a damn good stripper, by the way.” You added, trailing your fingertips up and down his torso.

“It's no wonder why Sloane put you undercover there.”

You and August had met, while both of you were on separate missions, three years before, that ended up colliding together and you and August became nearly inseparable. Where one of you was, the other wasn't long off or far from. August worked as the CIA's best assassin. You worked a bit more free lance, bouncing between the CIA and MI6, or sometimes for a private sector or person, if the money paid well enough. After your first year of dating August, when he finally trusted you without condition, he let you in on his _'John Lark'_ secret, how he was moonlighting as the top leader to the Apostles, the group that formed after the fall of the Syndicate, with Solomon Lane.

You were shocked at first, but the more you thought about it, the more it really made sense, August was calculated in everything he did, from work life to private life, he was distant and cold, almost cruel, if you didn't have the pleasure of being in his trusted inner circle. He had feared, an extremely rare trait in August Walker's vocabulary, that once you found out about his true dealings, you would leave him, he didn't worry about you outing him and blowing his cover, he knew you wouldn't, no matter how hurt and shocked you were, you had your own secrets and knew the value of keeping them that way.

A secret.

But, you didn't leave him, you loved him; even his faults.

You made him promise to never talk about the Apostles' business around you, unless _you_ asked him about it, the less you knew about his works as the Head Apostle, the less of it could be pulled out of you and used to harm him, should anyone decide to use you as a pawn against August. Which, you weren't worried about either, people, from high governments to the cockroaches knew better than to fuck with you, even more so knowing that if they did do something to hurt or compromise you, August would be at their doorstep a moment later.

“Well, the job there is almost done, then only _you_ will be getting a lifetime membership to my lap dances.” He told you with a smug grin, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him.

“I better be, August Walker.” You told him, pushing yourself up to straddle his waist, hands braced on his chest. “I'm the only one, this _Hammer_ gets to _nail_.” You laughed, rubbing against his flaccid cock, waking it up for another round.


End file.
